


Still Learning

by robbobobobob



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5 Times, Combined Paired Endings, Cyril/Lysithea, Future Fic, Mentioned Hanneman von Essar, Mentioned Ignatz Victor, Mentioned Manuela Casagranda, Multi, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, both ships get their own big vignettes, cyril-centric, cyril/ashe, first two is a cyril character study, no beta we die like Glenn, other three are about his relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robbobobobob/pseuds/robbobobobob
Summary: Five times the new Golden Deer students of the reopened Officers Academy didn’t know what to make of their mysterious house leader, Cyril.Cyril-centric imagining of his time as an official student of the Officers Academy, from the POV of the next generation of Golden Deer students. Set in a Azure Moon and Verdant Wind mashup future and multiple endings are combined.
Relationships: Cyril & Claude von Riegan, Cyril & Seteth (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94





	Still Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Cyril is 22 here, as the Officers Academy would need time to rebuild after the war. He fought in the war alongside Byleth, Dimitri, and Claude (who all live), but his name gets lost in the shuffle of prominent war figures.

**1.**

When the Officers Academy reopened its doors in the year 1188, there were a few changes.

The Academy had adopted a policy of meritocracy. They kept the house names for the sake of history and tradition, but the abolition of the divisions between the Leicester Alliance, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Adrestian Empire meant that every student was sorted not based on their origin, but by their desired specialisation. Everyone was allowed to attend for a significantly lower fee, provided they passed the required exams and recommendations. And if they didn’t, they could prepare to retake it at the Academy’s public general education annex.

This meant that, looking around at the new batch of students in the welcome ceremony, there were a variety of students from different walks of life. Most of them were still from Fodlan, but there were notable exceptions. Particularly, the presence of a boy with dark hair and amber eyes who was now being introduced as the new house leader of the Golden Deer.

The girl from the Goneril territory, a commoner from a village near the Throat, gaped at the sight of the Almyran. He stood in front of them, a big scar cutting across his right eyebrow, a few burn marks scattered around his hands, and a golden cape around one shoulder. How could an Almyran be the house leader? She knew that the relationship between Fodlan and their eastern neighbour was improving by the day, and that house leaders were now decided based on overall merit and not their family’s power, but how could a foreigner possibly have risen through the ranks enough to be a house leader?

She shook her head and focused on listening to her new house leader’s brief speech. (His Fodlani was perfect.) He introduced himself as Cyril Nevrand, stuttering over his family name. (Strange.) He told his 20-odd new classmates that he was looking forward to learning with them. (He looked stiff and sounded nervous.) Then he sighed, relaxed his posture and admitted he wasn’t very good at speeches, but that he hoped they would have a good year ahead. (The Golden Deer murmured their agreement, but didn’t say anything beyond that.)

The girl from Goneril spent her first month in the Officers Academy watching Cyril from afar. She was wary of him,“better international relations” be damned. She’s lived at the Throat too long to trust Almyrans. And Cyril didn’t exactly give her a good first impression.

The new Golden Deer house leader was aloof, untouchable, and more than a little terrifying. When there was work to be done, he would rather do things himself than to let anyone else join in. He hardly showed interest in casual conversations, and his resting face was cold enough to freeze over the lava pits of Aillell, which discouraged any attempt to invite him to join in. He had a sharp tongue that didn’t adhere to the conventions of polite society and that scandalised most of the nobles and even some of the meeker commoners.

He was always just… gone. If he wasn’t in the training grounds, the library, or in class, he was running around doing something that no one knew of. Sometimes it was like he just disappeared into thin air. 

And he had frightening marks all over his body. The first time Cyril wore a short-sleeved tunic at the training grounds, everyone in the Golden Deer stared at his arms, crisscrossed with different scars and wrinkly patches of healed burn wounds. When he changed out of his shirt, his back and torso was covered with more of the same. Rumours swirled around about what kind of shady behaviour he was involved, or how many people he’s probably fought, but no one dared to ask about the truth.

However, _because_ she was always watching him, the girl from Goneril could also see that the house leader of the Golden Deer was also… kind?

Cyril would go to the training grounds and spent the entire time with one eye on his classmates. Any time someone got injured, he would rush to their side, a vulnerary already in hand. Though he never said it in a way that anyone would describe as kind, he never actually got angry or exasperated. He would just give a stern reminder to be more careful, and then a suggestion on how to better handle the training weapons.

Everyday without fail, Cyril would ask his classmates if they’ve eaten. When he gets a lacklustre response, he pulls out some candy or a piece of bread from his belongings and passes it around. After training, he herds everyone to the dining hall and makes sure they all eat properly (any attempt to rebuff him would die the moment he’d give them that _look_ that could stop a Wild Beast in its tracks). Sometimes, he goes out of his way to inform some of them when their favourite dishes became available. They asked him once why he was so obsessed with food, and Cyril just shrugged and answered “No one should ever go hungry.”

Once, when some of the slackers of the Golden Deer were panicking over their certification exam, Cyril quietly left at their desks a bunch of reference books he checked out from the library. Books that he must have checked out for them, because he had long since received his certifications. As soon as they passed the exams, the books mysteriously found themselves back on the library shelves. No one knew it was him who left the books, except for the girl from Goneril (whose “observations”… may have gone too far).

She stops spying after that incident. She thinks about everything she knows about Almyrans and how Cyril was none of those. She considers the fact that she may have judged him too harshly, and how he might have been different from his countrymen. But she pauses. That wasn’t right. Perhaps, she’s judged _Almyrans_ too harshly. Maybe “better international relations” shouldn’t be damned after all. 

* * *

**2.**

The Golden Deer housed students who wanted to specialise in the bow, axe, and flying, but that didn’t mean they were already good at it. The barrier between Cyril and the rest of his class was due in part with how ridiculously advanced he was in comparison with everyone else. Even the Daphnel boy, who grew up wanting to be like his distant cousin Judith and so learned how to swing an axe before he learned to write his own name, always lost his spars with Cyril.

The Daphnel boy grew frustrated. He normally wasn’t so competitive, but no matter how hard his whole class trained, they _always_ came up short next to their house leader (sworn rival now).

While his classmates were still learning how to swing an axe without straining their shoulders, Cyril was already knew how to launch handaxes with accuracy. When Professor Hanneman was teaching the class the different ways to hold a bow, he asked Cyril to demonstrate the foreign styles from Almyra, Brigid, and Dagda, because “he was more familiar with them.” During their very first wyvern-riding lesson, while everyone else stood a few metres away from the beasts, Cyril ran straight into the middle of the pack and nuzzled their snouts. That was the softest expression they’ve ever seen him sport so far.

But while he was great at all the Golden Deer’s specialties, that didn’t mean the house leader was good at _everything_. The class would still have lessons in all the other disciplines, though they were run with a little less intensity, and this is where it was revealed to the class that Cyril was particularly bad at magic. The Daphnel boy decided to run with this. 

One particular night, he headed to the library but Cyril was already there. A quill and a piece of parchment were in front of him, and a pile of books already surrounded him. His was too engrossed to notice the Daphnel boy enter, brows furrowed at the books beside him. After a few hours, only the two of them were left at the library that night.

Wanting to stay as far away from his house leader as he could (he didn’t feel like explaining why he was suddenly so interested in Reason and Faith magic), he sat at the opposite end of the library. He went down to work, but every so often he looked up to see what his house leader, was up to.

Cyril was writing on his parchment slowly and carefully, as if it was a struggle to get through every letter. The Daphnel boy’s noticed that before, and he sometimes wondered how the house leader kept up with their lectures. After a while, Cyril stood up and walked to the shelves. He pushed a ladder, clearly intending to get something from a high shelf, only to struggle with a stiff wheel. The Daphnel boy watched from behind a thick book, as the house leader inspected the bottom of the ladder, huffed, and headed over to the back of the big globe in the middle of the library, crouching down behind it.

The Daphnel boy couldn’t see what the house leader was doing, but he heard wood sliding once, some rustling, then wood sliding again. When Cyril came back up, he was holding a bottle of oil and an old cleaning cloth. He then strode over to the ladder’s faulty wheel and started oiling it until it could move back and forth smoothly.

The Daphnel boy was perplexed. First, there was a hidden compartment in the library that apparently stored supplies. Second, his house leader knew about it. And Third, he felt no apprehension using it to fix the library. Was this a part of the house leaders' job? Fixing things in the monastery? Yeah, they had kitchen and stable duty sometimes, but actually cleaning and repairing the structures were chores they were told only the monastery staff could do. In case they end up damaging something ancient, they said. The Daphnel boy shuddered at the idea of cleaning the hundreds-of-years-old windows in the Cathedral and accidentally cracking it.

The house leader checked on all the ladders around the library (he finally noticed the Daphnel boy but only nodded in greeting before going back to the chore) before finally returning behind the globe. The Daphnel boy heard him mutter something about having to teach the staff how to properly maintain the monastery. If the Daphnel boy and the rest of the Golden Deer thought their house leader was puzzling before, now he was downright mystifying.

* * *

**3.**

Everyone knows house leaders have a certain privilege and power wrought from the position alone. And in the days of old when they were chosen based on how authoritative their lineages were, it was no question these chosen ones were incredibly special.

However, while the Golden Deer didn’t know much about their mysterious house leader, there _was_ one thing they were sure of: Cyril was an orphaned commoner who came to Fodlan as a servant. This was a question that was awkwardly asked at the start of the year, and ceased the voicing out of any other personal questions, until the Aegir scholar bravely asked about the food obsession a few weeks later.

The scholar sponsored by the new head of the Aegir territory was naturally inquisitive and found it difficult to hold back learning more about his house leader. Everyone else in the class found it too awkward, which seemed silly to him. It’s not like Cyril was offended when they asked about his past; he was just blunt. They, however, all seemed to have taken that as a sign to not pry anymore and he wasn’t one to go against the silent pact they all made. He did well upholding that pact, until he couldn’t help himself anymore. He was dying to know why eating was such a big deal to Cyril.

So while he got his answer to that particular question, another one popped into his head: why was his house leader friends with so many important people?

It was one thing to be familiar with famous figures and their teachers, it was another to actually be _friendly_ with them. Cyril was of the latter kind.

When Ignatz Victor visited the monastery, the Aegir scholar was more than a little starstruck. The Worldly Artist was already a rising star in the art world (of which everyone who was enrolled in the Aegir public schooling system was updated on thanks to its emphasis on the arts). He was a prominent figure by any standards, but as soon as he spotted Cyril, any air of authority he had dropped as he ran like an excited child towards the house leader. Ignatz talked animatedly as he fumbled to get out a pad of parchment from his bag. He was showing Cyril some of the sketches he made. The Aegir scholar overheard the artist say “Almyra was exactly how you described it!” as Cyril smiled.

Professor Manuela was known for three things: she was a former diva of the famous Mittelfrank Opera Company, she was an excellent teacher by all accounts, and she had some bad habits she had difficulty hiding from her students. Whenever the latter was happening, the students of the Officers Academy usually kept a wide berth, all except for Cyril. Once, the Aegir scholar caught him carrying her on his back late at night, berating her. “This is tiring, Professor Manuela. Don’t you have something you care about other than romance?”

Professor Manuela went silent for a beat before crying out, “I love children, I love my students!”

But the most perplexing situation the Aegir scholar has ever witnessed Cyril in was seeing his house leader standing at the Entrance Hall with the Father of Crestology, of all people. Aside from their classes, no one really saw Cyril ever talk to Professor Hanneman. From what the Aegir scholar gathered, they didn’t have very much in common.

But there they were, at the foot of the stairs. Cyril looked nervous, fidgeting with the buttons of his jacket as he spoke to the old professor, who was laughing softly at him. His face was slightly flushed and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to another. All of a sudden, he wasn’t the mysterious and terrifying house leader of the Golden Deer. He was just Cyril, looking younger than he ever appeared to their class.

A carriage was approaching, going past the marketplace and nearing the entrance hall. Cyril suddenly stiffened and Professor Hanneman just shook his head in amusement. The Aegir scholar tried to figure out who was coming based on the coach’s designs and… was that the Ordelia sigil?

The carriage stopped at the foot of the stairs. Cyril looked like he was about to burst. The door clicked open and a frail girl with snow white hair stepped out slowly. Before her foot could even land on the ground, Cyril ran up to her and lifted her out of the carriage. He hugged her tight and spun around twice before finally setting her down. They shifted a bit to face each other, but neither of them separated from their tight hold.

“Cyril, honestly!” The girl huffed at him, her face a bright shade of red. Cyril was only smiling down at her. She examined him up and down, remarking that the Officers Academy uniform suited him, which only caused the normally stoic house leader to smile even wider.

Professor Hanneman stepped in. “Shall we head to my office, Lysithea? Cyril has been helping me tremendously with my Crest research. I can’t wait to show you what we’ve discovered.”

Lysithea grinned up at Cyril, leaning on him as the three of them walked towards Professor Hanneman’s office.

* * *

**4.**

While the food at the monastery dining hall was excellent, sometimes little hole-in-the-wall restaurants were much more comforting for commoners like the archer from the Rowe territory. Sure, you might never know what you’re going to get, but flavour wins over foresight any day. More importantly, nobles never went to restaurants like those, so the atmosphere was more relaxed, and that made eating more enjoyable.

With all the in mind, the last thing the archer from Rowe expected to see when she was arrived was her house leader, already drunk.

She gaped at the sight. Like most of her classmates, she was incredibly curious about the mysterious and aloof house leader of the Golden Deer. She respected Cyril. He had lead them to victory during the mock battle, and she was sure he was going to do the same at the next one. (She noticed Cyril breathe a sign of relief when the announcement came that its name was changed and that it would no longer be held at Gronder Field, and the question of "why" bothered her for a few days.) 

She wanted to know more, but like her classmates, she didn’t know how to go about getting closer to him. She noticed his attempts to try to be more personable, but they always fell short, like he wasn’t really sure how to initiate casual conversations. So when she saw him already drunk, she saw this as an opportunity to learn more about Cyril (from a distance, and hidden from view).

The Golden Deer house leader was slouched against his companion’s side, his face flushed red and his jacket unbuttoned and rolled up at the sleeves. He was held in place by the arm that rested in the back of his chair, keeping him steady with a hand on his arm. The companion's face was an incredible shade of red. He was talking enthusiastically to Cyril, who was giving side commentary to whatever they were talking about, which would often make the man laugh.

It took the archer from Rowe a few minutes, but she recognised the other man the moment she saw that the gloves he wore bore the emblem of the Gaspard territory. Though Ashe Ubert might not have been as famous as the other soldiers on the front lines of the war, the archer from Rowe knew him.  He was an orphan who rose through the ranks and became a part of King Dimitri’s inner circle and was appointed to govern over the neighbouring Gaspard territory. It was every commoner’s dream.

Her house leader was drinking with an _elite._ How could his house leader, an orphan from Almyra, possibly know Ashe Ubert?

But there they were, laughing and talking and drinking. After a while, the pair grew silent until Ashe looked at Cyril straight in the eye and said, “Just think about my offer, okay? I would love to have you by my side at Gaspard.”

Cyril nodded and smiled, leaning comfortably onto Ashe’s side. Ashe smiled back and the pair went on to order another round of drinks.

* * *

**5.**

It’s been a few months since the Golden Deer first entered the Officers Academy, but they still didn’t know how to talk to their house leader.

They had just finished working out at the training grounds. Cyril was absent that day, but as usual, no one had any idea where he was. Someone in the class suggested they head to the Marketplace to round up some special ingredients for dinner, so everyone packed up and headed in that direction. They were chattering away freely as they rounded the corner to the Fishing Pond, which they had to pass on the way to the destination. Suddenly, the Daphnel boy, who was leading the pack eagerly, stopped in his tracks. 

At the edge of the Fishing Pond’s pier were the three of the most powerful people in the _world_ : Archbishop Byleth (who told the students at the welcoming ceremony to call them by their first name, an ask no one ever granted), Headmaster Seteth (who had the most terrifying resting face in the entire monastery), and…

“What’s the king of Almyra doing here?” The girl from Goneril said in shock, stepping forward to get a better look.

“How do know that’s him?” The Aegir scholar asked, stepping up beside them.

“I’ve seen him go on delegations to House Go—”

“No. Way.” The archer from Rowe said before pulling the three at the head down to hide behind some of the crates of fish that were stacked against the wall.

The three celebrities had just set down the fishing poles they were holding only a moment ago and were now forming a circle to converse. Right at the centre of it was none other than the Golden Deer’s enigma of a house leader.

"Why are we hiding?" The Daphnel boy asked.

"Don't you want to know what in the world they could possibly be talking about?" The Aegir scholar answered.

The archer from Rowe hissed at them, "Shh!"

The rest of the class had nowhere to hide except behind the nearby bushes, even though this meant they would be too far away to hear anything. Only the four hidden Deer at the crates were able to make out the conversation that was happening.

“… so yeah. I don’t think I’m being a very good leader…” Cyril was muttering.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cyril,” The archbishop said kindly. “It’s only been a couple of months.”

“Yeah but in two months, Claude had already gotten every student’s family history and personal goals, even the ones from different houses,” Cyril whined.

“Hey!” The king of Almyra protested, but he was smirking. “I can’t help it if I have a natural charm.” The archbishop rolled their eyes as Cyril swatted the king on the arm. (The girl from Goneril gasped. “That’s a _king_ he just hit!”)

“I’m _kidding_ , of course,” The king continued. “I can’t say my intentions were pure though, at least at first. Information was my priority at that time, and that motivated me to work harder at socialising.”

Seteth nodded. “It is important to know what your motivation is for developing your relationships with your classmates, lest you end up accidentally sending them the wrong signals.”

Cyril sighed. “I think I’m just really bad at this.”

Byleth shook their head. “You have never had to take anyone under your wing before, so it is only natural that you are still learning. I was like that at first too, remember?”

“Yeah, so lighten up, kid. I know you, and unless you’ve changed dramatically in the few months I’ve been away, I know you’re doing your best.” The king said, smiling gentler this time. He ruffled Cyril’s hair. “That’s just who you are. I won’t accept anything less from my successor.”

Cyril rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at that last bit, causing the king to laugh again. But eventually the house leader smiled and nodded.

“Okay now, since _that’s_ settled,” The king said, his smile now mischievous. “I heard from a reliable source that you and a certain fair-haired individual have been _very_ close ever since they arrived to visit.” (The four hidden Deer clasped their hands over their mouths, suppressing their glee at the gossip laid out in front of them.)

Cyril’s entire face went red as he looked back and forth between Seteth and the archbishop, looking betrayed. He was sending them a death glare that made the eavesdropping Golden Deer shudder, even if they weren’t the recipients of it. Seteth shook his head and gave a pointed look to the archbishop, who raised both arms in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You know Claude asked me to keep an eye out for you,” they said.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t as invested in it as I am,” the king retorted, casually slinging an arm around their shoulder.

“Aren’t ya here for an important meeting or something? Something about changing the face of Fodlan’s political landscape forever?” Cyril grumbled, still flushed.

“Yes, Dimitri should be arriving soon. We should welcome him,” The archbishop said, turning towards the Entrance Hall, dragging the king with them.

“I shall follow,” Seteth called after them. The pair nodded and waved goodbye to Cyril. The headmaster turned towards the house leader, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was wearing the gentlest smile anyone in the Golden Deer has ever seen on his face.

“Rhea would be proud of you.”

Almost immediately, Cyril’s eyes turned glassy. “Ya think?”

“Absolutely,” Seteth nodded. “To see you trying your best, finding your own path, wanting to be a good leader and a good friend… it would make her so happy to see you using your potential the fullest. You may still lacking on some things now, but you will eventually improve and reach your goals. I have full faith in you.”

Cyril blinked quickly and smiled up at the headmaster. “Thanks, Seteth.” He paused. “I just… I just want to do right by them. I want to make them feel… welcome… in the same way Lady Rhea, the professor, and you welcomed me.”

“I am sure that as long as you continue to make sincere attempts, they will feel it. Constantly providing them with food is a good start,” Seteth smiled, teasing. (The Aegir scholar was unable to hide a snort of laughter, causing the three other hidden Deer to give him a glare they clearly learned from their house leader.)

Cyril look indignant. “I’m doing my best here, okay?!”

The headmaster chuckled. “I must go catch up to others in the Cardinal’s Room. Who knows how long the council will last, so do not wait around for us.”

“Yeah. Claude made me promise to have tea with him before he goes back to Almyra, but I expected that’d have to wait until tomorrow,” Cyril said.

Seteth hurried away, but not before saying over his shoulder, “I advice you to look through the crates and bushes. It seems some of your Deer have taken to hiding in dark corners.”

Cyril’s head snapped towards their direction, and the Golden Deer knew there was no escape.

Sheepishly, the four hidden at the crates stepped out of their hiding places, gesturing towards the rest who were in the bushes and unable to hear anything, to come out.

“I—How—What—” Cyril sputtered. Even though they were guilty of eavesdropping, the four hidden Deer couldn’t say they regretted it. They had finally managed to see their house leader _be vulnerable_.

Eventually, Cyril sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck before he asked, “How… much did you hear…?”

“Not a lot!” The girl from Goneril squeaked.

“And it was just us here at the crates who heard anything, the others were too far away,” the Aegir scholar added.

“We’re sorry!” The archer from Rowe said. “We were on our way to the Marketplace and we just happened to come across you, and then we saw you were with all these famous people, and then we got curious because….”

“Because who the hell are you, Cyril?” The Daphnel boy couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone, including Cyril, just gaped at him. The house leader was too surprised at the outburst to be offended.

“What he means is, we just wanted to know why you’re in the Officers Academy when you’ve obviously already been a lot of battles,” the girl from Goneril supplied.

“Yeah, and why do you know so many famous people?”

“How are you so friendly with… with an elite knight, and a king, and the archbishop, and also Headmaster Seteth?”

“And why the hell do you take the time to clean up the monastery?”

Cyril blinked at the Golden Deer in front of him, not saying anything for a while. The class braced themselves for a death glare, or a lecture, or even the cold shoulder. But then, Cyril sighed.

“Honestly, I’m not really mad at ya,” The rest of the house looked at him in shock. “I’ve noticed your questioning looks, but I think I waited around too long for you guys to just come out and ask me.” Cyril paused. “I think… I’m more used to people approaching me than I am at opening up myself.”

“So, you’ll answer our questions?” The Aegir scholar asked quickly. They were so close to solving the mystery that was their house leader. He could’t let this chance slip away.

“Okay, but only if you're polite about it,” Cyril gave a pointed look at the Daphnel boy, who paled before apologising profusely. The house leader’s face defrosted after that.

Cyril turned around and started walking towards the dining hall. “C’mon, this is gonna be a long story. Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

The Golden Deer stumbled to keep up with their house leader.

“Really? You’ll answer any question we have?” The archer from Rowe asked, in awe.

“Sure,” Cyril said.

“T-thank you,” the girl from Goneril said. Cyril smiled at her, warm this time.

“Sweet!” The Daphnel boy cheered, “I can’t wait to learn more about the fair-haired individual you’re close with!”

Then he sprinted off towards the dining hall, because he was reckless, not stupid. Cyril was left frozen and sputtering, his blush stretching from his hairline to the collar of his jacket.

While most of the Golden Deer were confused, they all knew the face of someone with crush when they saw it.

Laughing, they all headed towards the Dining Hall, with Cyril in the centre.

**Author's Note:**

> So what really spurred this on was that in most of his endings, Cyril ends up attending the Officers Academy. Which is both really weird and also what he deserves. On one hand, he’s technically already gone through it (being an early recruit into Byleth’s house) and he’s managed to keep up with the other units during the war (who are either already graduates, or are adults). On the other hand, he deserves official recognition and certification for his greatness, and he deserves to have a “normal school life” which he never got before. :(
> 
> Anyway, I know this is an incredibly self-indulgent little thing, it’s a very niche topic about a character who’s not very popular. But I am just so fascinated by his character, unsatisfied by some of the shortcomings in how he was written, and just have so many thoughts about post-war Cyril, so I absolutely had to write it down. Also, combining all the different paired endings are my kink.
> 
> We need more Cyril love in the fandom anyway. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
